


Stay Here Tonight

by Piplup212



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), The Blitz, except not really, its more 2+1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 14:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piplup212/pseuds/Piplup212
Summary: Two times that Aziraphale asks Crowley to stay the night and one time Crowley asks the same of him.





	Stay Here Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lesbianclerics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianclerics/gifts).

“Little demonic miracle of my own.” Crowley stuck his arm out, handing Aziraphale back his leather bag stuffed with semi-prophetic books. 

Aziraphale took the handle, their hands brushing, and his heart nearly popped like a balloon in his chest. He almost missed Crowley offering a lift home, he felt as though he were on an entirely different plane of existence.  _ He saved the books. He saved MY books. I didn’t even ask him to. _

_ Just how long have I been in love with him? _

The realization hit with the force of… well, a  _ bomb,  _ but that seems slightly in bad taste. Aziraphale followed Crowley to his car in a daze, sitting down and mulling over his thoughts. Memories flood back to his mind, memories of the exile of Adam and Eve, memories of the Ark and the crucifixion, of Rome and France and Shakespeare and Agreements and fights and it’s as if a bright spotlight has been cast upon these memories, amplifying the small things and casting shadows on things that he had never realized before.

_ I love him and he loves me too. _

And then he was knocked out of his head and into full gear, Crowley slamming on the accelerator and flinging them both down the streets of London at- Aziraphale stole a glance at the speedometer-  ** _110 miles an HOUR?! _ ** Aziraphale gripped his bag close to himself, looking at the demon who was sure to cause his untimely discorporation. Was every car ride going to be like this?

The benefit of Crowley nearly breaking the sound barrier was the quick arrival he made to Aziraphale’s bookshop, and it was then that Aziraphale realized he had to get out. He had to leave, potentially not seeing Crowley again for another 100 years, maybe even more.

Aziraphale and Crowley stepped out of the car and made their way up to the door of the shop. Aziraphale put his hand on the doorknob but did not turn it. He took a deep breath and looked to his companion. “Crowley, would you… Would you stay here tonight?”

Crowley was visibly taken aback. He sputtered a bit before finding his words. “I’m- I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry, it’s probably highly inappropriate,” Aziraphale said, twisting the ring on his pinky. “I just thought, what with the whole… air raid and thousands losing their lives, I thought I would offer you somewhere to stay safe.” He broke eye contact, looking down at the bag of books. “I’d hate to see something happen to you.”

Crowley was silent before huffing. “I’ll be fine, angel, nothing’s going to happen.”

Aziraphale nodded, putting his hand back on the doorknob and opening the door. “Of course. Be safe.”

Crowley returned the nod and turned to leave, and something inside of Aziraphale must have snapped or flipped the self-preservation switch into the off position, because he quickly put his book bag down and ran back to Crowley’s side, planting a small peck on his cheek. “Thank you.” 

And he retreated into his bookshop, locking the door behind himself and leaning against it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


And then he tells him he goes too fast. He tells him he goes too fast because he  _ knows _ what they have. He knows what’s between them, but he can’t risk it, he can’t risk it all no matter how much he wants, and he  _ wants.  _ But he can’t, and so he doesn’t. He hopes Crowley understands.

* * *

  
  
  


Aziraphale disposed of the uncomfortable fake teeth with a snap of his fingers and took a seat in a wooden chair in a small shack on the edge of the Dowling estate. Crowley removed her heeled boots and unpinned her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders in crimson waves. It took all Aziraphale had not to run his hand through it.

Crowley lets out a deep sigh as she sits across from Aziraphale, finally relaxing. “Dark  _ Lord, _ whoever invented those things deserves a promotion.” She pointed to the boots lying haphazardly on the floor.

Aziraphale poured two glasses of wine, holding one out to Crowley and smiling. “Dear girl, I believe that was  _ you. _ ”

“I know what I said,” she threw back without any bite before sipping her wine. “Those things give me blisters to rival the plagues.” She groaned, sinking down in her chair. “Walking back is going to be a  _ nightmare. _ ”

Aziraphale shook his head. “You can get rid of them pretty easily, can’t you?”

“That takes all the fun out of it.” She pulled a stocking-clad foot up into her lap, feeling through the fabric for blisters.

“Well, if you must, you can stay here tonight.” He sipped his wine then put the glass down. “I only keep the bed to keep up appearances, I don’t use it.”

There was silence, then the sound of a loud zip. Aziraphale looked over and saw Crowley putting her boots back on. Aziraphale rushed to his feet and opened his mouth to speak but Crowley put a hand up. “Don’t. I have a room back in the estate, it’s not that far of a walk.” She zipped up her other boot and retrieved her hair pin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

And she shut the door behind her, the slightest remnant of purple lipstick on the rim of her barely touched glass being the only thing alluding to her having been there in the first place.

* * *

  
  
  


And then, THEN he told Crowley he didn’t even  _ like _ him! Which Crowley immediately sniped down, but Aziraphale seemed bent on reassuring him of the fact that they weren’t even friends. They both knew it was a lie. So why did he let Crowley walk away under the impression that Aziraphale has never spared a thought to the demon in the same way he has for the angel?

* * *

  
  
  


And now, the bus ride back to London is quiet. Partly because they have just, you know,  _ ended the apocalypse and that takes a while to unpack. _ Partly because they have their fingers interlaced with each other, and that’s the longest they’ve held physical contact since… ever.

  
Aziraphale can feel Crowley’s hands shaking through the entire ride. When the bus stops, Crowley lets go of the angel’s hand and leads him up to his flat, fumbling with the keys and throwing the door open. He takes Aziraphale into the living room, flopping himself down onto the grey couch. “I’ve earned another century long nap.”

“Crowley, I really don’t… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be here.” Aziraphale fidgets with his hands, fear doing the same to his stomach.

“Oh, come on, angel. They won’t bother us tonight, they need to make sure all their  _ heavenly soldiers _ are appeased. Sit.” He pats the couch but Aziraphale stays put.

“They- they could come after you, or me, or both of us, they’d get us both.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Crowley throws his legs back over the couch and stands, walking over to Aziraphale. “I’ve got protections put up already, nothing and no one is getting in.”

Aziraphale’s vision goes blurry, tears spilling out onto his cheeks. “But- But what if they-”

“Aziraphale,  _ please. _ ” Crowley’s voice cracks, and that’s what forces Aziraphale’s attention onto him, even through the tears. “We only… We only have a few hours left to plan before they come get us, can’t we just- just use this time to  _ stop lying to each other? _ ” He steps closer, wiping away Aziraphale’s tears. “I know I’ve told you no every time you’ve asked me this question, but I can’t let anything happen to you, not now, this could be all we have left. Please, just… stay here tonight.”

Aziraphale is silent, then he nods and whispers. “Of course.”

Then Crowley plants a kiss on his forehead and pulls him close. “We’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out, Agnes knew what she was doing.”

They spend the night planning, talking, and just being near each other, and in the morning when Crowley shuts the door behind him with Aziraphale’s hands, he leaves a kiss goodbye on his own cheek.

* * *

  
  


And then they  _ win. _ They tricked them, they’re free now. They’re free to go on walks, to have picnics, to dine at the Ritz, and when Aziraphale looks at Crowley and they toast to the world, they know it’s all worth it.


End file.
